a spell to turn to the stuggle into a magical process –
double double toil and trouble toiling spinning questions into sweat, doubt into wonder,
exhaustion into vitality into exhaustion.
change the thoughts change the frame,
the process is the same but the thoughts are at the helm.
this ship is small, humble, made of wood
willing to go out but not too far.
to be ruled by its skippers, sailors, captain and the environment below –
the kelp, reef, ecosystem.
like this process: the pen starts moving and the wind can yield.
who is in the room with me? who do I feel staring close to my skin?
phantoms, women, men who gaze and get bored, who close their eyes
and open them again, sensing effort near the body,
sensing meat flesh agin sagging flexing struggling.
the dance isn’t the sublime streak through the space for me.
it’s awkward, clumsy, odd as we are, with moments that surprise by transcending.
